


Between You and the World

by MilesHibernus



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, F/M, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Rape, Wartime, canon character "death"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilesHibernus/pseuds/MilesHibernus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy never would have expected Barnes, of all people, to make such an offer for her sake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The thing was, no matter how much people wanted to think so, Steve wasn't actually indestructible.

He found out later that a chunk of falling masonry had clubbed him in the back of the head and he'd gone down like a sack of wet laundry. But when he first woke up, all he knew was that he hurt and he was so nauseated that the act of prying open his eyes made his stomach turn over. Two of Morita, looking very worried, wavered sickeningly before him.

"Cap?" Morita said. "Can you hear me OK?"

"Yeah," Steve managed. Morita didn't look much relieved. Steve passed out again.

The second time he woke he was back at base, in the infirmary's one tiny private room. It took him nearly half an hour to notice the absences, and when he did at first he thought they must just be on watch or reporting to Phillips or something. But finally it dawned on him. Since he woke, Dugan, Monty, Dernier, and Jones had all been in to see him, as well as Morita who hovered like a hen with one chick even when the base doc had to push past him to get to Steve.

"Where's Bucky?" he asked, next time he got the chance. "If he sacked out before I woke up I'm gonna get another smelt for his shoes." He tried out a smile but it felt weak so he dropped it.

"Cap..." Morita said, and Steve knew that tone.

"Just tell me," he said.  Morita still hesitated. Steve clenched his teeth. "Right now, Jim, or I swear on my mother's grave I'll get out of this bed and find someone who will."

"Sarge sent us out with you," Morita said. He'd clearly have been happier to pull out his own fingernails. "He and Carter stayed back to cover the retreat." There was a long, awful pause. "Hydra's got them both."

* * *

Peggy sat cross-legged on cold concrete and pretended that she was sure Barnes was breathing.

He was across the hall from her, in the second of the four tiny barred cells. He had gotten dosed with something, a canister that spouted virulent green gas, and from what she'd been able to piece together in the long trip here, whatever-it-was had been concocted to deal with Steve. Which meant that Barnes might well be so far under he'd never wake, even if he was technically still alive.

That sour thought kept her company for several hours.

The change came surprisingly quickly. One minute Barnes was still as death in his cell; the next he stirred, groaned and pushed himself up on one elbow. He shook his head and looked around, catching sight of her. He grimaced and said, "Jesus, didja get the number of that truck?" He sat up, clearly forcing himself to move, and leant against the side bars, his hands draped over his bent knees and his head rolled to look at her.

"You were gassed, Sergeant.  Be thankful you're awake at all." That, she thought, was a little waspish even for her. "I certainly am." And she was. Perhaps she and Barnes didn't see eye-to-eye on everything, but he was utterly devoted to Steve, and charming when he wanted to be...and if she were honest, under the circumstances Peggy would have been thankful for _far_ worse company than James Barnes.

"Did they get Steve out?"

Peggy swallowed but forced her voice steady. "I believe so. If for no other reason than I think that he'd be in here with us if they hadn't."

Barnes heaved a sigh. "Or someone would, Hydra woulda managed to take at least one of 'em alive. OK, I'm gonna rule this one mission accomplished."

"That's a fascinating definition," Peggy said. She didn't feel it necessary to make a blatant survey of their surroundings.

Barnes snorted at her. "Steve's out. That's enough for me." The implication that it might not be for her hung in the air and Peggy felt her lips thin.

"I see your point, Sergeant," she said, perhaps more coldly than was strictly warranted.

He sighed again. "Look, I'm sorry you're stuck here too, you're the best shot other'n me. I just...I been lookin' out for Steve since I was seven. It's kind of a habit." He sounded defeated.

After a moment Peggy nodded and let her shoulders slump a little. "I know. I apologize."

Barnes was drawing breath to answer when the heavy door that led to the little cell block slammed open. Six men filed in, enough to make the hallway between the cells a bit cramped. The _leutnent_ , the only one who carried a sidearm,jerked his chin at her and said, in accented but good English, "Stand, turn, and put your hands against the bars."

Peggy raised one eyebrow. It seemed they had learnt their lesson from the number of men whose skulls she'd cracked before they brought her down.  She thought it was telling that someone of his rank appeared to be in charge of an installation this size, and filed the fact away for later reporting.

"Now," the _leutnent_ barked. She complied, and one of the men reached through the bars and cuffed her hands behind her back. Peggy supposed that was something of a good sign; if they'd wanted her dead they could have simply shot her. On the other hand she was not best pleased by the expressions the men, including the _leutnent_ , wore, covetous, appraising.

When she'd gone into the spy trade, Peggy had prepared herself for the idea that she might at some point face this violation. She had judged the risk to be worth it, and it was still worth it now. But that did not mean she was obliged to find it pleasant.

At the _leutnent_ 's order she moved away from the bars so they could unlock the door. Two of the men entered and took her by the upper arms—the more fool they, to leave her legs free, though in truth her options were limited; she might manage to render one or two men incapable, but the retribution would probably not be worth it.

As the _leutnent_ stalked into the cell, Peggy wondered if she could convincingly feign enjoyment once they got started. She knew, after all, how it was supposed to be, fruit of her time with Steve in tents and bombed-out buildings and once an actual hayloft, which Steve, the dear fool, had chuckled about for a week afterward. If they thought she liked it, they might lose their taste for it; at least half of why they wanted to do this was to humiliate her, and Barnes for being unable to protect her.

The _leutnent_ stopped in front of her, too close, and began to unbutton her blouse. Peggy set her jaw and stared over his shoulder, past his remaining men who watched avidly, and that was why she was the only one who saw it when Barnes wavered to his feet in his cell. He looked furious for a split second, and Peggy forced herself not to react in alarm. There was nothing Barnes could do that wouldn't make it—

"Wow, you guys have guts, I gotta give you that," Barnes said. His body language changed completely and instantly, before the _leutnent_ could turn to look, from pained exhaustion to casual insolence. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked one foot over the opposite ankle, leaning into the bars like a man holding forth in a pub.

"Be silent," the _leutnent_ ordered. Barnes grinned at him.

"No, really. The Ice Princess there doesn't even give Captain America the time of day, you think she's gonna be impressed with the likes of you?" Barnes shrugged. "Plus, if it was me, I like my dick right where it is, don't wanna get it frozen off, you know?" He ducked his head, biting his lower lip a little as he looked up through absurdly thick eyelashes.

Much though she loved Steve, Peggy Carter was neither blind nor foolish, to have never realized what an attractive man Barnes was. But something about this look promised more than mere attractiveness. He went on in a voice gone husky, "Me, on the other hand, I know how to show a guy a good time."

"Don't be an idiot, Sergeant," Peggy forced through clenched teeth.

"Don't see why I should stop now," Barnes said airily.

The _leutnent_ abandoned his grip on her blouse buttons and took the three long strides necessary to reach Barnes' cell. He reached through the bars and grabbed Barnes by the front of his shirt—the blue jacket, like their boots and most of the rest of their gear, was out in the guardroom. "I told you to be silent," the _leutnent_ snarled, and yanked; off-guard, Barnes smashed into the bars.

"Ow, come on," he protested. "Can't a guy make an offer?"

The _leutnent_ 's lip curled. "What offer is that? Will you stand between your woman and the 'fate worse than death'?"

Barnes rolled his eyes. "Not my woman. She ain't interested in the likes of _me_ either. I'm just sayin', you can have the Ice Princess and worry every second that she's gonna bite off something you're fond of...or you can have someone cooperative."

Horrified admiration began to mix with Peggy's incredulity: every line of Barnes' body radiated seduction, submission. Where on _earth_ had the man learnt to do that?

"I don't need you to protect me," she said aloud, because she was damned if she was just going to let him throw himself on this grenade. It wasn't as if they were even friends, not really; she knew he resented her for the share of Steve's attention she took, and she was shamefully jealous of the years-deep affection and camaraderie between them that she'd never fully match.

Barnes snorted contemptuously. "Hey, dollface, ain't my fault if you're too high 'n mighty to play the angles."

The _leutnent_ looked suddenly enlightened. "You think that you can bargain yourself for better treatment."

Peggy almost managed to laugh at the patent disbelief on Barnes' face then. "Yeah, pal, took you this long to work that out? That was what I was gettin' at."

"You do know that we know who you are, Sergeant Barnes," the _leutnent_ said with poisonous cheer. "You have killed many of our comrades."

"That'll make it better, won't it?" Barnes said lazily.

"Sergeant, _don't_ ," Peggy snapped.

Barnes gave her a sunny smile and said, "Too late." He had a better angle on the _leutnent_ 's face and must have seen a decision she could not, because the man said, "Indeed. Remove your clothing...Sergeant Barnes."

Barnes' smile twisted into a smirk. "That's more like it," he said, and pulled his shirt over his head. He was wearing another shirt beneath it, in addition to his vest, and even in her haze of concern and anger it occurred to Peggy that he was too thin, thinner than he looked with his blue jacket done up.

All the Howlies were careful around her, of course, even on the memorable occasion when that meant they faced opposite walls of a burnt-out church as everyone changed their clothes back-to-back. But now that she thought about it, Barnes had been just as careful about nakedness around any of the rest of them, especially Steve. He'd been trying to hide that he wasn't getting enough to eat. And while some amount of short rations was normal for a commando unit in the field, Barnes looked as if he hadn't been getting enough for quite some time.

It didn't take him long to discard his trousers and drawers, and then he pulled the chain that held his dog tags over his head. "Hey, you wanna give these to the princess to hold for me?" The _leutnent_ , looking amused, lobbed the chain to one of the men holding Peggy; he dropped it into her hand. She clutched the metal tightly and ran her fingers over the back of the tags and sure enough, there it was.

Barnes, like the rest of the Howlies, had a thin metal shim glued to one of his tags. The things were too flimsy to pick a heavy lock, but they worked beautifully on handcuffs. Peggy dug her fingernail under the shim. It was a little more difficult without being able to see her hands, but she'd practiced this sort of thing often enough.

"Down," the _leutnent_ said. He did not do anything as vulgar as actually shoving, but it seemed he didn't have to; Barnes dropped to his knees smoothly and tilted his head, still smirking.

"This far enough or am I going all the way?"

"You are most assuredly going all the way, Sergeant." Peggy caught a flash of disgust on Barnes' face as he arranged himself on hands and knees, but there was still allure in the curve of his spine, the bend of his neck. She raised her chin and turned her head aside—only to turn it back at the sound of the _leutnent_ 's pistol being cocked. He rested the muzzle of the weapon on the back of Barnes' head, met her eyes, and smiled. "If you cease to watch, I will shoot him."

"I will kill you myself," Peggy said calmly, and pried at the shim.


	2. Chapter 2

Afterward, Peggy could never remember the events in their proper sequence, even as the images refused to leave her mind. She was sure that the first thing they'd done was close her in her cell again, and open Barnes'; that was only sensible. But aside from that, she could not keep things straight.

Barnes grunted in surprised pain around one man's organ as another pushed into him from behind. (By then his left eye had swollen shut, so it could not have happened first, but it was always the first image that came to Peggy's mind.)

He was slurring by the time they required him to chant _I'm a whore, fuck me harder_ , but no amount of slapping would force him to do it in English. When Barnes began to improvise on the theme, Peggy chose to be impressed by his command of German obscenity.

Peggy did not know much about the niceties of intercourse between men, but she was mortally certain that they had not been followed in this case; Barnes' body convulsed as the _leutnent_ 's hips snapped forward, and a strangled curse escaped him. (That must have been early; Barnes was not yet much bruised.)

The sixth man's thrusts became erratic and Peggy allowed herself a silent sigh; none seemed prepared to try again as yet and at least there might be time for a rest. Then the _leutnent_ ordered one of his men to "go fetch the others", and Peggy had to grit her teeth. It was far too late for drawing attention back to herself to do any good; one of them had to remain functional. She watched in grim silence as Barnes bent his head.

It was something of a relief when they spent a while merely beating him.

Red-faced, Barnes began to shove away from the hands that pressed him into the groin of the man before him. "You said you would cooperate, Sergeant Barnes," the _leutnent_ said silkily, and Barnes subsided, pressing his trembling fists to his thighs. (It was the first time he passed out.)

Finally they left, one at a time, the last man still adjusting himself in his trousers as he went. The _leutnent_ paused in the door to look back at Peggy. "Something to look forward to, Agent Carter," he said. Peggy glared at him even as her hands worked furiously behind her back. The handcuffs dropped to the floor a moment after the door closed.

Barnes lay in a careless sprawl, his face buried in one bent arm. Peggy yanked the ring of keys she had appropriated out of her waistband and unlocked the cell doors as quickly as she could. She knelt at Barnes' side and laid a hand on his shoulder. He shuddered away from the touch. "Barnes," she said quietly. "Barnes, it's all right, it's me. Can you sit up?"

Barnes rolled his head until his good eye was uppermost. Peggy carefully suppressed the unease that it took several moments for him to focus on her. "Can," he muttered. "Don't want to."

"I'm afraid you'll have to if you possibly can," Peggy said. "I don't know how long it will be before they notice what I did."

Barnes' eye narrowed. "What did you do?"

Peggy smiled and held up the pistol one of the second wave had brought in on his belt, undoubtedly against orders. Barnes studied it for a worryingly long time, but then a matching smile spread over his face, lopsided with the bruising but there. "You know, Carter, I'm startin' to understand why Steve likes you."

"If you can sit up, you can call me Peggy," she replied.

"How can I resist?" Barnes said wryly. She helped him, and leant him against the bars while she collected his clothing. She sacrificed his vest to quickly clean him; there was no point in making him do this while utterly filthy.

"If I'm calling you Peggy, you should call me Bucky," Barnes said as she helped him into his trousers, which hung a little loosely on him. She wished they had his belt.

"Oh, must I?" she said, with a small smile. "How _did_ you end up with such a ridiculous nickname?"

He made a noise that wanted to be a laugh and said, "My big sister was four when I was born and she couldn't say Buchanan. And there were six other Jims on the block and three Jaimies. And then Steve picked it up and I couldn't've stopped it if I wanted to."

"How about James, then?" she asked, and handed him one of his shirts.

He struggled it over his head. "I can go with James." The second shirt went on a little more easily.

"All right," Peggy said, when he was dressed. "How would you like to do this? I could tell them you're dying." She looped his dog tags back over his head.

"Doubt they'll care too much, you might do better just making a ruckus," James said. "Look, I'll do my best but I don't know how useful I'm gonna be. They kinda did a number on my...ribs. And my face. And I think some of the fingers on my left hand are broken."

Privately, Peggy agreed with him; he was unsteady on his feet and ashen-pale. But aloud she said, "You should take the gun, then."

* * *

"Help!" she screamed. "Help, he's dying!"

Peggy's mother had thought that musical training was suitable for young ladies and had hired tutors. Though the only art for which she'd shown any aptitude had been singing, she'd been moderately good at it. She was never going to perform at La Scala—but she could produce significant volume, when it suited her purposes.

"<Shut up, bitch>," called one of the men in the guardroom. Peggy continued to shriek. There was a pause long enough that she began to worry before the door creaked open.

The instant the guard was in view, James shot him. He collapsed into a crumple, his left eye a bloody hole. There was an alarmed exclamation from the guardroom and the second guard ran towards the door. _Thank God for idiots_ , Peggy thought, and threw herself into the door as he approached. It hit him in the face and he fell backwards, stunned. She stepped with him, grabbed the heavy knife from his belt, and stabbed him neatly in the throat.

James followed her out into the guardroom, which held a table, two chairs, and a locked cabinet. "Just a moment," Peggy said, and started applying keys. The third one opened the lock. "Here," she said, and handed James his blue jacket.

* * *

" _I don't care_ ," Steve barked, with just enough control left to punctuate the sentence by slapping Phillips' desk with an open hand rather than pounding it with his fist. "They are _both_ known to be part of my unit. Let's leave aside the fact that they are excellent, experienced operatives. Let's forget that they know things we can't afford to have Hydra discover. Colonel, if we leave them with Hydra they will be _tortured to death_."

Phillips regarded him for a long, silent moment, and Steve forced himself to breathe evenly.  He still felt sick and shaky, though the effects were passing much faster than they would for a normal person. People were going by the office window and he hoped belatedly that they hadn't heard him shouting. "If I don't approve this lunacy, am I going to have to give you another commendation instead of a court martial when you get back?"

"Yes," Steve said. The silence drew out. "Sir."

Phillips nodded, his face set like stone. "Don't make me regret this, Rogers."

* * *

In a way, Peggy was grateful that James was having so much trouble staying focused.

He was fine when they were moving, and steady as a rock whenever he needed to shoot someone, but any time they stopped for more than a few seconds he would go vague and far-away. It made it easier for her to insist that he rest whenever they could spare a moment, and he didn't seem to notice that she always made sure he was on the relatively safe side.

They crouched among the cleaning supplies in a utility closet, hidden enough that a casual scan from the door might miss them, and waited for the sounds of boots to fade. Peggy clutched her gun, latest in the series of weapons she had picked off corpses and discarded when the ammunition ran out.

"Peg, I have to ask you something," James murmured, in the low conversational tone that paradoxically carried less than a whisper. He sounded pained.

"If you're planning to give me a message to take to your beloved mother, I'm afraid I'll have to insist you tell her yourself," Peggy said at the same volume. Despite herself her heart sank; she didn't let it show in her voice.

James huffed a laugh. "I'm not planning to kick the bucket before we get out of here, don't worry. What I'm askin' is, don't tell Steve." She turned her head to look at him. He shrugged one shoulder. "He won't...Steve doesn't...he won't take it well, that's all."

"He'll want to help you," she said.

"Yeah, that's the problem." He gave her a half-smile. "He's bad enough at taking care of himself, I don't need him worrying about me too. It'll just make my job harder."

Peggy pictured it. Pictured what James had been to Steve before the serum, strong where he was weak, and what it was likely to do to him to find that his friend had been so badly hurt. Nor did it escape her that James simply wouldn't want to admit that he had, technically, agreed to it—for her sake, indeed. It seemed the least she could do. "If you're sure," she said.

"I'm sure. Promise me?"

"I promise," she said.

* * *

They were two miles from the compound when it exploded.

Steve went out of the back of the truck almost before it had completely stopped, standing in the road to stare at the column of smoke as it rose into view against the pre-dawn grey of the sky. The rest of the Commandos piled out behind him, as did men from the other trucks.

"Is that..." Morita said.

"According to the map, yes," Steve said tightly, an icy ball settling in his stomach. Bucky and Peggy were _in there,_ and someone had just blown it up.

"If someone destroyed a Hydra base without checking for prisoners, I'm going to be miffed," Falsworth said, light as always. "It must have been a ground raid, we've seen no aeroplanes."

Dernier contributed a Gallic wave of his arms and said, "<That's our job, no one else should do it.>" Gabe translated, though at this point it was hardly necessary.

Steve was on the verge of ordering everyone back into the trucks when he caught sight of one of the scouts jogging towards them. "Captain Rogers," the man huffed. "Contact, two approaching on foot. At least one is injured."

"Let's go," Steve said. He knew better than to hope, but he couldn't make himself stop.

It was a matter of a few minutes to work their way through the undergrowth. Steve could hear footsteps approaching and waved men to encircle; better safe than sorry. The footsteps were roughly in stride, one person leaning on another for support he thought, and his heart clenched like a fist.

When Peggy stepped out into the clearing, holding one of Bucky's arms slung over her shoulder, Steve actually felt lightheaded with relief.

* * *

Steve emerged from behind a bush and Peggy nearly shot him.

She wanted to throw herself into his arms and weep, but there was James to consider, and the rest of the Howling Commandos were appearing from their own cover, and from the sound of it other men in position behind them, which was only sensible if they hadn't been identified at first. "I'm sorry we're late," she called instead. "We were unavoidably delayed."

Steve crossed the clearing with that deceptive speed, so shocking in a man his size, and Peggy pretended to stumble just enough to swing James into position to be embraced first. "Bucky!" Steve exclaimed, and wrapped his friend in his arms.

James flinched, but then his arms came up in return. "Took you long enough, punk," he said as they pounded each others' backs.

"Let's see you handle a brick to the head that fast," Steve retorted. He didn't let go of James entirely—the man obviously needed the support—as he reached for Peggy. "God, Peggy, thank God you're all right," he said, and Peggy had to swallow hard. She let herself hug him back for two full seconds and then pushed away.

"I'm fine, but James—Sergeant Barnes needs a medic as soon as possible."

"Yeah, he looks like it," Steve said, studying James' battered form. "What happened?"

"Hydra are terrible people," Peggy said shortly. She should have taken a moment to get their story straight, but it hadn't occurred to her.

"Some guys tried to get handsy with Carter," James said easily. "Convinced 'em they'd rather pound me." He waved at his face. "They couldn't stand I was better lookin' than any of 'em."

"Bastards," Steve said, his expression hardening into righteous fury. "We'll get them."

Peggy did not dare let herself laugh; she knew once she started she wouldn't be able to stop. "I think we took care of that, Steve," she said in her driest tone.

Steve snorted. "You sure did, Peggy."


	3. Chapter 3

In the end they captured two Hydra operatives alive. One died of his wounds on the trip back to base (and Peggy was going to be having a little talk with the people who had not known there was a major Hydra compound so close by.) The other, relatively hale, vanished into the custody of the interrogation team, who were beside themselves with delight at the chance to actually _interrogate_ a Hydra member.

James and Peggy were given the option to bathe and sleep before debriefing. James took it; Peggy did not. She told the story straight except for saying only that James had been beaten. Colonel Phillips eyed her skeptically through the whole thing, and when it was over he followed her out of the prefab structure they used as a conference room.

"Carter," he said bluntly, "there's something you're not telling us."

Peggy stopped walking and looked around. No one was close by. "Then I think you can assume I have my reasons," she said crisply. She longed for hot water, for a bed—any bed would do, really, as long as it wasn't already occupied.

"We've had stories before about what Hydra likes to do to women."

"And they tried, but Sergeant Barnes headed them off."

Phillips might as well have held a sign above his head that said _I don't believe you_ , and Peggy had to stifle a completely inappropriate giggle. "If I find out you're lying to me, I will do my damnedest to make sure you don't go into the field anymore," Phillips said finally.

"Ah, yes, that's sensible," Peggy snapped. "Let's not send soldiers into situations in which they might get _hurt_ , shall we?"

"You are not a soldier, Agent Carter."

"Then I won't be disobeying orders when I don't let you stop me, Colonel Phillips," Peggy said flatly, and turned her back on him.

He didn't follow, which was altogether fortunate, as she was uncertain of her ability to avoid killing anyone who delayed her access to a bath any longer.

* * *

Steve did not particularly want to talk to the prisoner. It would be conduct unbecoming to treat the Hydra soldier as Steve desperately wanted to treat him, and he thought it would be better to keep himself away from the temptation. But apparently the prisoner had information he was willing to disclose only to Steve, and they so rarely managed to take any Hydra alive that they couldn't afford to waste the opportunity. So he went.

It seemed routine enough until Steve was standing alone in the little interrogation room. The prisoner sat shackled to a straight wooden chair, his handcuffed hands resting on the plain table. "<I'm Captain Rogers>," Steve said. "<What do you want to tell me?>"

The prisoner leaned forward over his hands. <I fucked your bitch,>" he said.

Steve blinked. The slight mental effort of translating from German dulled recognition of what the sentence actually _meant_ for a moment, but then he rocked back from it as if he'd been slapped. " <What did you say?>"

"<I fucked your bitch. We all did. Two at a time, sometimes. All it took was a little encouragement and the whore begged for it. Sweet, though. Knew how to do it.>" The soldier smiled, the nasty smile of a man who'd go around bragging that he'd had his hand up his date's skirt no matter what _she_ said. " <Before I die I just wanted the mighty Captain America to know that _I fucked his bitch_. >"

As if from a great distance Steve watched himself kick the table aside and reach for the prisoner's collar. "Heil Hydra," the soldier said, and bit down.

* * *

In the morning, feeling much more like a human woman, Peggy set herself to cultivating the commissary staff. It was obvious that James had not tried to get himself any extra rations—the man could charm the Devil, if he'd tried he would have succeeded—so Peggy would do it for him.

She'd had plenty of time ( _Barnes grunted in surprised pain_ ) to think about why James might be trying to hide his condition, and she kept coming back to one fact: James had been Zola's prisoner.

Zola, who had had access to all Erskine's early research.

It seemed impossible, but Peggy had learnt not to discount what she saw with her own eyes. James was very good at hiding; it was only in hindsight that the many tiny clues added up to anything. She thought he'd probably even fooled Steve, who wanted nothing more than his oldest friend exactly as he remembered him...and that was what he was getting. She found it hard to blame James for that. Nor did it seem that he had turned into a megalomaniac. She was content to let him go on as he had been, but she was damn well going to get him more rations.

She was turning away from the kitchen door, sipping from her tin mug of execrable coffee, when Steve appeared out of bloody nowhere. He was white at the lips and Peggy had seen Steve angry, but this was something else entirely. "Agent Carter," he said, flat. "Can I have a word with you." It was in no way a real question and he clamped a hand on her upper arm and headed for the door.

Peggy let him lead her—she'd find out what he wanted faster that way. They exited the mess hall and crossed the central part of the base and kept going, out into the relatively flat field that the Americans persisted in attempting to play baseball on. In the middle of it, as private as they were going to be able to get without going outside the sentry line, Steve stopped and turned to face her. "You lied to me," he said bluntly. From the sound of it he wanted to be shouting.

Stung, Peggy said, "I beg your pardon," in the tone of her elderly aunt Constance thinking the person addressed should be begging hers instead.

"I talked to the Hydra prisoner," Steve said. Peggy's eyes widened in shock. Poor James was going to be devastated— "He told me what they did to you."

"...what?"

"I'm not going to repeat it," Steve said. "But he told me. How'd you get Bucky to help you cover it up?"

"Cover up what?" Peggy demanded. She was fairly sure she knew, but it would be better to make him spell it out. "What precisely am I being accused of, _Captain Rogers_?"

"The Hydra men," Steve said, and swallowed. "Raped you." Suddenly he wilted, his shoulders slumping, and turned half away. "I understand why you don't want Phillips to know," he said quietly. "He...but you might've trusted me, Peg."

Peggy threw the coffee in his face. Steve sputtered shock, warm liquid dripping from his nose and chin. "Steven Rogers," Peggy spat, "I told you the _exact_ truth of _everything_ that happened to me in Hydra custody."

"He told me in so many words, goddamnit," Steve said with a spark of new anger, wiping at his face.

"And you're taking Hydra's word over mine?" Peggy said. "It's not as if it's to their advantage to _lie_ to you, is it? Come on." She turned on her heel and started walking.

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to this prisoner myself," she said tightly. "I can't have him telling his lies to Phillips."

"He's dead, Peggy," Steve said. Peggy stopped again. "He killed himself right after he told me."

"Bloody hell," she said, clutching the handle of her mug until it hurt her palm.

Steve circled to face her and took her by the elbows, staring at her. His eyes were huge and sad. "Peggy, I just...you can't think I would blame you."

"Oh, Steve," she said, suddenly weary. "There's nothing to blame me for. They barely touched me before James diverted them." And then, because she could see that he wanted to ask, "I promise."

Steve bent his head. Low and pained, he said, "It makes me sick. Even if it was all right this time, the risks you run that the rest of us don't..."

"They're my risks to choose," Peggy said.

"I know," he replied, and she put her hand on his cheek.

"I'm all right," she said, and Steve nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

They stayed in base two more days, but then they were off, the first snowflakes of the year swirling behind the truck. There was only so far the truck could take them, though, and then it was shank's mare, a phrase Peggy found unutterably silly.

When they stopped after the first day's walk, Steve raised his eyebrows at Peggy and she nodded. They pitched one tent a little out of the ring of the others, only a matter of a few feet but it lent something that bore a distant family resemblance to privacy, as long as they kept their voices down. There was sometimes a bit of ribbing when they retreated to the tent together, but it was not meanly meant.

Thus it was that she and Steve were both naked to the waist when James' voice rose in protest, loud but half-mumbled, "No, no, _stop_ —"

"Bucky," Steve said urgently, and dove out of the tent. Peggy snatched up the first garment that came to hand, yanked it over her head, and followed him.

No one had been much asleep yet, and Morita hustled in from where he'd been pacing out his watch. Fortunately it had been James' turn to have a tent to himself—they were supposedly big enough for two but in Peggy's experience that only applied if the two were very friendly—and therefore he hadn't thrashed into a tentmate.

"Buck, Bucky, it's all right, wake up," Steve said, firm and calm, from where he knelt at the edge of James' bedroll. For most people it would have been unwise to touch a combat veteran in the grip of a nightmare, but Steve was fast enough to dodge the inevitable flailing return strike. "Bucky!"

Peggy could tell that James had woken because he froze. There was a pause, the night noises of the German forest paradoxically loud around them. Then James drew a ragged breath that Peggy could hear from where she stood and said, "Steve."

"Nightmare," Steve said, matter-of-fact.  It wasn't as if nightmares were an uncommon occurrence among the Howlies. "You're okay now."

Behind Steve's bulk Peggy saw a motion that she interpreted as James scrubbing his hands over his face. "Well, I'm awake anyhow," he said, dry as dust. "OK, out of the way."

Steve shuffled obligingly back so that James could crawl out of the blankets and tent, then reach back in for his jacket. He shrugged into it as they both stood, and James at last seemed to notice that everyone was awake and watching. "What, you never saw a guy have a bad night before?"

"You keep us from getting any shut-eye, Sarge, you could be polite about it," Jones said lightly.

"Just for that I'm takin' the watch, fuck you," James said in the same tone, and then, "Sorry, Peg."

"I've heard the word," Peggy said, and he made a face at her. In fact she'd heard _him_ say it, or at least the German equivalent, repeatedly. _Oh, this is going to be difficult_ , Peggy thought gloomily, as Steve looked between them with an expression of confusion.

"Peg," James said seriously, "why are you wearing Steve's shirt?"

* * *

Three days later, Peggy stepped away from the group. It had been a cold, miserable walk all morning, and she wanted to spend a few minutes pretending she was the only person in the world before she began beating her friends and companions about the head with whatever came to hand. She'd never been the kind of woman who spent days incapacitated by her monthlies, but she couldn't deny they made her a little more irritable than usual.

She was through one cigarette and on to her second when someone came up behind her, deliberately walking heavily so she'd hear him coming; she glanced and found it was Jones, carrying a fag of his own. He leant against the next tree and lit the smoke, taking a deep drag before he said, "Couple years before the war started, there was a girl in my neighborhood. She had a run-in with a couple of White men. A bad run-in, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, Jones, not you too," Peggy said. "Do I have to _personally_ convince every man in the bloody SSR that I'm fine?" So far Dum Dum, Monty and Dernier had cornered her, though at least they'd all accepted her reassurance when given it.

Jones waved his cigarette in a placating gesture and went on, "For months after, she was...jumpy. You didn't want to come up behind her if she didn't know you were there, and if you touched her when she didn't expect it you were taking your life in your hands." Peggy raised her eyebrows. He seemed to take the _Get to the point_ as read. "You've been fine. Sarge though—he's jumpy. I went to wake him up for his watch last night and he almost took my head off, literally. I don't even know where he was keeping the knife." He pulled on the fag again. "Does Cap know?"

"I'm sure Barnes is perfectly capable of telling Steve anything he _needs_ to know," Peggy said evenly.

"OK," said Jones at last. "I suppose Cap doesn't need another thing to worry about." He studied the glowing tip of his cigarette thoughtfully. "But he's not stupid, Agent Carter. I wouldn't count on keeping him in the dark forever."

* * *

The Hydra base was dispiritingly empty when they got there, with signs that the emptying had been hasty. Hydra had a number of standard base layouts, though of course they always differed in detail once you were inside; this was the one Steve thought of as squares-in-rows, a large central building with parallel hallways lined with square rooms.

They spread out to search once it was clear there were no personnel to worry about. Steve jogged along the hallways over and over, checking in with everyone in turn.

He was halfway down the hall that had the detention room in it when he heard a choking noise. Steve broke into a run immediately, wondering what new kind of Hydra booby trap Bucky had stumbled into, because this was Bucky's hall, though Peggy had tried to take it.

Steve swung into the guardroom. The door that led into the tiny cell block stood open, and through it Steve could just see Bucky's back. He was bent forward, arms wrapped tight across his stomach. The metal stench of blood hung thick in the air.

"Buck, you okay?" Steve asked, and Bucky startled and spun like he hadn't heard Steve coming, which was a little weird because he'd always had better ears than Steve's—not, admittedly, difficult before the serum—and Steve thought he might even have gotten better since getting to Europe.

Bucky's eyes glittered with unshed tears. "There's someone in here," he said, his voice thready. "Dead. Not long."

"Damn it," Steve said. He moved forward to peer through the door. A man's body lay in the first cell on the left-hand side. He was short and wiry, naked, not even his dog tags if he'd worn any, and he'd bled to death from..."Those filthy bastards," Steve said bitterly.  At least when a woman was forced, she had _some_ chance of coming out of it without being physically injured; it took a lot of work to ensure a man didn't get hurt, and from the looks of it the Hydra men had done no work at all.  One of the nightsticks some Hydra men carried had been dropped in the corner of the cell; Steve carefully did not pay attention to it. "I'll see if I can find something to cover him up." Bucky nodded mutely and Steve laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. Are you okay? I know you've been feeling rough these last few days."

"Yeah," Bucky said on a long breath. "I just...Steve. This could have been me."

"They wouldn't've killed you before we could get here, you might know something," Steve said, and essayed a grin. "Turned out you didn't need my help, anyway. You had 'em on the ropes."

"Peggy did," said Bucky, and though the smirk he produced was faint it looked sincere. "I swear, Rogers, if you let that dame get away I'm gonna marry her myself."

"Fat chance, do I look stupid to you?"

Bucky looked him up and down and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

"Jerk," Steve said.

* * *

They camped in one of the outbuildings because it had started to snow in earnest, and examined their haul of papers and supplies. There wasn't much, but Peggy had found a file, missed in the hasty emptying of a cabinet drawer, that was an absolute gold mine. Amid a welter of personnel records—useful, if not vital—lurked a few mentions of higher-level Hydra assets.

Including Arnim Zola's itinerary for the next month.

Peggy knew her baring of teeth bore very little resemblance to a smile, and when she looked at James his expression matched exactly. 


	5. Chapter 5

As December wore on, they got used to James waking up shouting or shaking. Peggy lived in fear of the moment he'd say something that couldn't be explained away, though she had noticed all the Howlies were a little more careful of how they acted around him and that seemed to help. Even Steve was well aware that James was, as Jones had put it, 'jumpy', and made an effort to telegraph his intentions before touching him.

They were back at base again while they planned their strike on Zola's train, and it was a little easier to talk to James without Steve that way; Steve had paperwork and endless meetings, some of which no one else was permitted to attend. Peggy took advantage whenever she could.

"Hello, boys," she said from the barracks-room door. Morita and Monty waved at her but didn't look up from their cards. Dernier said, "<He's been in there all day.>"

"<So I had gathered,>" Peggy said as she crossed to the door leading to the room Steve had insisted on sharing. "<Wish me luck.>"

" _Bonne chance_ ," Dernier said, and the other two echoed "Good luck."

Peggy hitched her basket up on her arm so she could tap the door. "James, it's me. I've brought your dinner."

"Go away, Peggy," James said.

She grimaced. "Not until you've eaten something," she said, and turned the doorknob. James lay on his bed in vest and trousers. He glared at her as she stepped in and shut the door behind her.

"You know I coulda been naked in here."

"I'd control my lust somehow," Peggy said dryly. "Now sit up and take this." She set the basket down on the small table Steve used as a desk.

"I'm not—" James started, only to be interrupted by a loud gurgle from his stomach. The betrayed look he turned on himself made Peggy's lips twitch. "I'm gonna eat later," he amended. "You know Steve won't let me miss Christmas Eve dinner."

"Indeed, but you're also going to eat now," Peggy told him.

He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. "It's your fault the mess keeps tryin' to give me double rations, isn't it?"

"Of course it is, and I notice you're not fool enough to refuse to eat them," Peggy said.

"Fine, whatever. Give it here."

She passed him the basket and he started to unpack it. "Does Steve have the schedule yet?" she asked, sitting on the edge of Steve's bed.

"We're leaving on the twenty-seventh," James said. "Should be at the rendezvous by dusk on the thirtieth, back here in time for the New Year party." He gave her a sidelong look. "You gonna kiss me at midnight?"

"If you like," Peggy said, and smiled. "After I kiss Steve, if you don't mind."

James grinned. "How that punk ever got so lucky, Carter, I swear." He paused in unwrapping the sandwich and said slowly, "You know Steve and I used to mess around sometimes."

Peggy said, "I didn't know, but I can't say I'm surprised."

"Not since you, though. I wouldn't ask, and Steve's no cheater."

She leant back on her hands and studied him while he pretended intense interest in the sandwich. "Does it count as cheating if I say it's all right, do you think?"

James froze with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am. Happy Christmas." Peggy put on a thoughtful expression and gazed up at the ceiling. "Really, though, I should thank _you_ for that lovely image." The contrast of dark and fair alone...

"Peggy," James said. "Are you really serious." She met his eyes again and nodded.

"I'll tell him so myself, if you'd like."

He spent several moments visibly speechless and finally broke into a chuckle, shaking his head. "How that punk _ever_ got so lucky. And here I didn't get you anything."

Peggy smiled. "I know you'll do anything to keep Steve safe, but if you want to get me something, James, keep yourself safe too."

"I always do," he said.

* * *

She met Steve outside the barracks as she was leaving and they chatted for a few moments, but it was too cold and wet to talk for long.

"Tell James I said it's all right with me," Peggy said. Steve cocked his head in puzzlement. "He'll explain."

* * *

"If they're goin' that fast we only have time to land three," James said, glaring at Steve. "I'd be happier with four too, but we can't do it. The last guy'll go splat and you know it."

"I want to check it one more time," Steve said mulishly.

Jones sighed and picked up his slide rule, but James' hand shot out and grabbed it away from him without looking. "Don't be an asshole, Rogers," he said. "He's checked it twice already, or don't you trust him?"

Steve's lips compressed and he transferred his stare to the paper that held the figures, his brow furrowed as if he could change them by will alone. Finally he said, "I trust him."

"Fine," James said. "Then all we have to do is set the order."

* * *

For a miracle the Jeeps were exactly where they were supposed to be. Steve walked in the lead, trying not to blink because every time he did it replayed before his eyes, Bucky, falling away from him... Morita and Falsworth had Zola by the arms because Steve didn't trust himself to touch the man and they were the ones who hadn't expressed (out loud) a desire to kill him.

Peggy spotted him right before he stepped out of the trees and started towards him, calling, "Gentlemen, I'm afraid I have to ask you to hurry, we've had word of a German unit in the area." Her eyes flicked over them and Steve saw it, the instant she realized someone was missing, and he wanted to drop to his knees and wail.

"Where's James?" Peggy asked, and Steve knew she knew, because in the field she scrupulously referred to him as Sergeant Barnes. "Steve, where's James?"

Steve swallowed hard.

* * *

"Allow him the dignity of his choice. You know damn well he thought you were worth it," Peggy said. She managed to get the words out without wavering.

Steve stared at the table for a long moment more before he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "What happened to him when Hydra had you?"

Peggy blinked and looked aside. "That doesn't matter anymore," she said, and picked up Steve's abandoned bottle. The contents tasted like petrol smelled, but she didn't really care.

"I'm going after Schmidt," Steve said with quiet venom. "I'm not gonna stop till all of Hydra is captured or dead."

"You won't be alone," Peggy said. They stayed there in silence, Steve in his chair and her leaning on the table, until Steve's breath hitched.

"I was so close, Peg," he said. "Another couple inches—"

She put the bottle back down and urged him to stand with a hand under his elbow so that they could wrap their arms around each other.

Afterwards, she could never say how long they stood there, weeping.

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted](http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1634.html?thread=3234402#cmt3234402) on the Hydra Trash Meme on Dreamwidth.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Keep Smiling Through](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412296) by [Lasgalendil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasgalendil/pseuds/Lasgalendil)




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